


To treasure gold is fun

by baeconandeggs, koizoras (parkchanyeol)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6946699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkchanyeol/pseuds/koizoras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the first night, curious eyes met from across the room — two completely different individuals, on completely different journeys. On their last, love came with pain, just like the flowing rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To treasure gold is fun

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [ "Like Rain, Like Music" performed by Baekhyun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LfwlLo8WQF8).

The bride and groom were about to make their entrance.

Across the hall, every guest stood up — hundreds of them, a sea of immaculate lustrous hair and dark heavy fabric, dotted with the brilliant sparkle of diamonds. As they rose, the side doors of the hall were pushed open, and a man — the groom — walked towards the altar, followed by two groomsmen who towered over him.

At a table far to the back of the hall, Baekhyun started to applaud along with everyone else.

No sooner than the groom arrived at the altar, did the wide double doors at the rear of the hall abruptly spring open, and the first flower girl began a slow march down the aisle. The bridesmaids followed, and then the bride — radiant in white, smiling shyly beneath her veil. The couple met at the altar, the marriage officer narrated their vows, and then they were wed — bound together for life under the massive symbol of the six-pointed star.

***

Baekhyun had never felt so anonymous. They’d already had two courses and several drinks, and he was starting to feel faded out, like he was being swallowed up by the decadence that surrounded him. They were far out from the city here at the hotel, but the interior of the hall gave nothing away — it was stylish, upmarket and unfriendly, every bit city style. Every bit Junmyeon’s style, Baekhyun thought. It felt strangely removed from the isolated, wild serenity of the cliffside that lay just beyond the doorway.

He’d been introduced to the nine other individuals seated at his table — all associates of the groom somehow, people who worked under him in the industry division, or acquaintances from his days back in the Academy. Introductions were made in a forcedly amiable manner as each person took turns to justify their presence at the ceremony.

Baekhyun was a great conversationalist — he broke the ice easily, readily admitting that he was working odd jobs to save money for a chance to become a singer, which was his dream. However his personality didn’t do much to endear him to this particular crowd, who weren’t too impressed by his circumstances. They remained polite on the surface, but he could tell their interest wasn’t sincere. That was fine by him. He sat and listened instead, asking questions where appropriate.

His eyes roamed the hall and landed on the VIP table, where one of the groomsmen was getting out of his seat. The man was indeed tall, fairly thin, his gelled hair was jet black, and he had on a black gridded wool under his suit. As Baekhyun watched, the man looked up sharply, making eye contact from fifty metres away. Baekhyun held his gaze, but the man’s eyes swiftly flickered away.

“Who’s that?" Baekhyun asked, still keeping his eyes on the man, who was now walking over to another table near the centre of the hall. His manner was commanding, his strides wide, and as he approached the table everyone stood to greet him. “That guy. The best man.”

To Baekhyun’s left, a young, garrulous woman — she’d introduced herself as Tiffany — peered at the man in question. “Park Chanyeol? Have you never met him?”

 _Park_. It was a familiar name — possibly a powerful one.

Baekhyun shook his head. “Should I have?”

“I’m surprised. Just about everyone knows him.”

“Really?”

“He’s one of the Parks after all. Has a reputation too — doesn’t stick with anyone for long.”

“Sounds cliché.”

“He kind of is. Your stereotypical Academy kid, you know.” Her tone was low, conspiratorial. She was dying to say more, Baekhyun could tell. He looked back towards the middle of the hall, where Park Chanyeol was speaking to a man seated at the table. He spoke with marked facial expressions, alternating between cold seriousness and wide, deliberate smiles. All equally disconcerting.

If the man ran in such lofty circles as it seemed, Baekhyun would have no reason to cross paths with him. He wasn’t a part of that world. This weekend here at the wedding, rubbing shoulders with society — was a transient moment. On Sunday he would board the skytrain back to the capital and never speak to any of these people again.

Still, he was curious. He turned to Tiffany. “How do you guys know each other?”

 

*****

 

That night, the pale sliver of the new moon was accompanied by a vast canopy of stars. They were far, far south of the cities, and it was the first time he’d been able to see the constellations in a while.

From where he sat at the end of his bed, Chanyeol could see the forest sprawling before him — a thicket of cypresses, stretching all the way out to the rocky coastline. A light wind was blowing, and the pines were rustling over one another, a wave propagating outwards like ripples on a lake.

He was overcome with the sudden desire to feel water on his skin.

The hotel pool would probably be quiet at this time. Chanyeol got up, put on a robe and his trunks and headed out to the lobby.

The skylight pool was housed in a glass dome supported by Roman columns, projecting off one of the cliffs the hotel was built into. In the pale moonlight, the water glowed aqua, beckoning him to enter. Chanyeol set down his towels next to the pool and began to step into the water. It was cool to the touch. All around him, beyond the shelter of the dome, sheer cliffs extended above the dense foliage. In front, to the south, the coast led to sea, and out at the very end, a lighthouse — standing atop a hill.

From somewhere behind him, he sensed movement. Chanyeol stopped in his tracks, turning around slowly to check who’d joined him.

A man emerged from the shadows, pulling off his robe as he approached the pool. He was short, slim-built. “Byun Baekhyun,” he said by way of introduction, his voice a bold, lilting tenor.

Chanyeol turned back around. “Park Chanyeol, but you already know that.”

“What makes you think so?” The other man’s tone was amused.

“You were sitting with Miyoung earlier, weren’t you? She loves talking about me.” Chanyeol lowered himself into the water and took a seat on the ledge, letting the coolness seep through his heated skin.

“You’re right. I probably know half your life story by now.” The man entered the water slowly, and leaned against the ledge opposite Chanyeol. His eyes were downturned, heavy-lidded, but bright and alert. “Though a very heavily embellished version, I’m sure.”

Baekhyun turned to look out of the dome, and Chanyeol watched his movements. He had a very slim, pale face with soft nondescript features, almost glowing as it was lit from beneath by the pool lights. A smooth, swanlike neck. Broad shoulders, soft-looking arms, tapering down to a slim waist. Chanyeol was almost certain he’d never seen the man before, which was intriguing. “I’m quite surprised we’ve never met, Mr Byun, I’d thought I shared all of the couple’s acquaintances.”

“Just Baekhyun, please. I came on the groom’s invitation.” He spoke with delicate pace, light but friendly.

“Oh? Where did you meet Junmyeon?” The man didn’t look like a typical ministry guy. His manner was too fluid, too relaxed.

“He’s my employer.”

Right. Chanyeol nodded in understanding. “You work at the club.”

“I started a few months ago.”

“Junmyeon must really like you. He doesn’t usually invite those employees into his private life.”

“I suppose I’m a likeable person.” He smiled slightly. The rippling water cast moving shadows across his face. “What about you? How did you meet Junmyeon?”

“Hasn’t Miyoung already told you?” 

“She said you guys were schoolmates.” Baekhyun’s gaze was lingering on his upper arm tattoo, and Chanyeol straightened, flexing very deliberately. It gave him some satisfaction to note how the other man immediately looked away.

“He’s my senior,” Chanyeol corrected. “And I’ve known him way longer than that. He’s like my older brother, saw me through every stage of adolescence. We were raised in the same neighbourhood.”

“In New Seoul, I assume.”

Chanyeol nodded. It was supposedly common knowledge. “And what about yourself? Where are you from? Clearly not any of the Eastern capitals.”

Baekhyun’s expression seemed to close off slightly. “I grew up in a satellite city, never really ventured into the capital.”

“So why are you here now?”

“What do you mean?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Bartending can’t possibly be your final destination, you’ve got to be on your way to something else. Moving on to another city, perhaps? Hoping to get scouted by a secret society?”

“I’m saving up. I want to be a singer, but I don’t know anyone and can’t afford the position.” The answer was surprisingly simple. For some reason, Chanyeol had been expecting something more.

He sensed that the man was still looking at his tattoo. “Do you always stare at people’s marks like that?”

“I’m sorry.” The other man seemed caught off-guard for the first time. “I’ve never seen one up close.”

“It’s the same hexagram you see everywhere — a simple, ugly emblem. There’s nothing special about it.”

“It doesn’t have to be beautiful. It’s a mark of power, it speaks for itself.” Baekhyun’s tone was still casual, but with an undercurrent of something almost accusatory.

“It’s not good to carry such resentment.” Chanyeol quipped. “Nothing will ever change.”

“Easy for some people to say, since everything works in their favour.”

“Yeah, it’s easier for some people than others. Whining about it still won’t make a difference.” Chanyeol didn’t care if his words were coming off rude, he’d heard enough of the same bullshit throughout his life. 

“Guess we should be thankful to still have the freedom to direct our own lives.” Baekhyun leaned back again, and he sounded thoughtful. “Like I heard you’re off to the North.”

Forward. Chanyeol was semi-impressed. “I am.”

“Must’ve been a hard decision.” Baekhyun’s eyes were questioning.

“Not really, no. I’ve been set on this for quite a while.”

“So I heard. People seem to know a lot about you.”

“Care to share what else you’ve heard?” He wasn’t interested, but he was curious to know what the other man thought of it.

Baekhyun’s lips quirked into a smile. “That might take a while.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got all night.”

“So do I. I assume you’re leaving in the morning?” Baekhyun’s intentions couldn’t be clearer. Chanyeol wanted to laugh.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I am. The happy couple want me to accompany them to their housewarming tomorrow.” 

“You know the bride as well, then?”

“Very well.” Chanyeol leaned over, coming eye-to-eye with Baekhyun. His were alluring, mesmerising eyes, filled with mirth. Chanyeol lowered his voice. “But don’t tell the groom.”

A smirk took over the other man’s dimly illuminated face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

Chanyeol awoke the next morning with Baekhyun lying next to him, limbs twisted together in the cotton sheets, Baekhyun’s black hair tousled and sticking up in tufts. With his eyes shut, the energy he usually exuded absent, he looked very young, unsettlingly vulnerable.

Chanyeol was hesitant to disrupt the peaceful state he was in, but gently nudged him awake. “The sun’s gonna rise soon. Let’s go down to the coast.”

 

The duo made it out of the hotel before daylight, rumply in comfortable clothes and bedhead. They followed a path through the foliage, pines glimmering with rain and dew, and before long they could hear the roar of the waves teasing them from just beyond the next turn. In the dim, green light, all Chanyeol could see was the mist lingering in fresh air, inhaling the earthy petrichor; all he could hear was the lull of the ocean, and Baekhyun’s quiet breathing.

Finally they broke out onto the coast, greeted by the sharp sea spray and a chilly wind. The horizon was shifting from indigo to vibrant pink. 

Baekhyun was entranced. “It’s beautiful.”

Chanyeol kept walking, following the coastline. From behind he could hear Baekhyun catching up. “Where are you going?”

“Let’s go up there.” Chanyeol glanced at the silent, abandoned lighthouse standing at the end of the slope, then back at the rapidly-lightening horizon. He lengthened his strides. “Hurry.”

They sped-walk up the rocky slopes, and climbed up the endless spiral staircase till they reached the top. A giant lamp, its circular wick unlit, and a spherical lens occupied the centre of the space. The wind was much stronger up here, and it sent Baekhyun’s hair into further disarray. Chanyeol circled the now-obsolete apparatus, letting his fingers drift over the dusty surface, then quickly strode over to the railing. The horizon was fire now, amber shifting through vermillion, rising and cancelling out the shimmering purples and navies of the heavens. 

He’d come to see the sunrise, but all Chanyeol could look at was the interface of pink and purple, that slight sliver of sky where the shimmer seemed to be particularly bright.

He could feel Baekhyun’s eyes on him. The man looked so soft and cute, his defences down.

“That’s what you joined the Board for, isn’t it,” Baekhyun said quietly. “Why you want to be based far north. You want to go past the gates.”

Chanyeol kept his eyes on that sliver of light. He didn’t really want to answer, but there was something about the man — Chanyeol felt like he had to. “Yes.”

“Pretty risky of you, to give up a future with the state, for something that you don’t even know is real. Something you don’t even know will happen.”

His presumption was getting on Chanyeol’s nerves. “I’ve always known I was going to the North. And it’s been established, the gateways are real. We just don’t know what lies beyond.”

“But what if you weren’t assigned there?”

“That thought never crossed my mind. I’d get assigned there if I wanted it enough.” Chanyeol turned to Baekhyun. The man wasn’t even looking at the sunrise, his eyes were fixed on him. Chanyeol knew that gaze, and felt a twinge of regret.

He stepped forward and took Baekhyun’s hand in his own, gently pulling him towards the railing. “Look out there. The sunrise. You said it was captivating.”

Baekhyun turned away with some reluctance. “It is.”

They watched in silence as the night gave way completely to dawn, and the last trace of dark disappeared from view. Way below on the shore, the tide was beginning to rise.

Dawn had come, and with it the wildness of the sea faded out to tranquility. They descended the spiral staircase, and as they stood there on the rocky slope, Chanyeol turned to Baekhyun with finality. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Baekhyun eyed him quizzically. “Is that it? Aren’t you going back to the hotel?” 

“No.”

“Didn’t you say you were leaving this place today?”

“I’ve had my things sent ahead of me. Sehun’s picking me up later.”

Baekhyun nodded, and hesitated. “I see.” 

Chanyeol watched the other man’s expression carefully. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

Baekhyun’s lips curved into that unreadable smile, and the soft innocence was gone. “I’m sure we will. Till then, Park Chanyeol.”

“Goodbye.”

Chanyeol watched as Baekhyun turned around and headed back down the coast alone, his black hair flying, loose clothing blowing in the wind. He watched until Baekhyun reached the end of the path, turned a corner, and was gone.

* * *

_Your suite has been booked ahead — number three, on the tenth floor. Collect the keys from Seulgi at reception, she’ll be the one with her hair in a ponytail._

Baekhyun scanned at the concierge desks and homed in on the girl at the end, whose auburn hair was in a high ponytail. Seulgi smiled at him as he approached. “May I help you, sir?”

“I’m Byun Baekhyun. I’d like a room for one night.”

She nodded and handed him an envelope containing his keys. “I’ve already checked you in. Enjoy your stay.”

Baekhyun took the envelope and stopped abruptly in his tracks, halfway to the lifts. He stared at the figure leaning casually against the banister of the main stairwell.

The man grinned widely, showing about a million teeth. “Hi, Baekhyun. Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“I’ll say.” Baekhyun quickly got past his initial shock. “How long are you staying in Busan?”

“Just a couple nights.” Chanyeol followed Baekhyun to the lift. “I see the bartender job’s paying well.”

“Actually I wait tables as well as bartend,” Baekhyun said nonchalantly. “I work many shifts.”  
“I see. Makes all the difference.” The megawatt smile was back. 

“You’re very cheerful today, aren’t you?” Baekhyun commented. 

“Of course. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” The man’s complete one-eighty in demeanour was slightly unsettling. 

“My presence makes you that happy.” Baekhyun tilted his head and smiled, voice dripping with irony.

“You know it. Was having a rough day, but it’s all good now that you’re here.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I’m kind of busy right now. I’m dropping my stuff off and then I have to go.” 

Chanyeol didn’t let any of his disappointment — if any — show. He just kept on grinning. “I know. Meet me in the lobby here tonight once you’re done.”

“I really don’t think I’ve got the time.”

“I’ll be waiting.” The lift stopped, at the eighth floor — when had he pressed the button? Baekhyun hadn’t noticed. Chanyeol stepped out of the lift, gave him a cheery wave, then disappeared from view. Baekhyun shook his head to himself, remembering what Tiffany had told him. _They say he’s somewhat mentally unstable._ The man was definitely off his rocker.

***

It was past midnight by the time Baekhyun staggered back into his suite, worn out. He stripped off his suit and ran a hand through semi-gelled hair, which was starting to fall apart. Curse the invention of ties, the things were decorative torture devices. He reached up to unbutton his shirt, then stopped midway, remembering Chanyeol’s request from earlier. Could he actually be there in the lobby? 

Even if he was, it would be a mistake to go down and meet him, to court more attention.

Baekhyun walked over to the window. Outside, the city centre was alive, airways crowded with crafts jetting between buildings, darting above and under crosswalks. Landing pads, projecting from skyscrapers at various levels, were gleaming multicoloured hubs of activity. Floating bars pulsed with neon lights as they spun past pool decks, marked out by their harsh white stadium lights. It was hard to believe that in the midst of all this activity, so much could be monitored. So much could be under constant surveillance. Baekhyun rolled down a window pane, and breathed in the fresh night air. It was the cold, addictive taste of liberation.

Pushing aside all thought, Baekhyun pulled out his earpiece and abandoned it on the bedside table. He grabbed a bomber jacket to throw on over his shirt and slacks, and left the room.

He’d planned on getting some air regardless of whether Chanyeol actually showed up, but as he arrived at the lobby, a familiar frame stepped in through the revolving doors. 

Chanyeol broke into a grin. “Just in time.” He was dressed in all-black — a biker jacket over a comfortable sweater and jeans.

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows. “How did you know what time I was gonna be here?” 

“I had reception let me know when you returned.”

“Attentive.” And surprising.

“I can be. Are you ready for our date?”

Baekhyun crinkled his nose at the word, but decided not to ask. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know, what would you like to do?” The other man’s tone was teasing.

Baekhyun sighed. “Skip the formalities, will you?” Chanyeol’s reaction was to burst out laughing, a loud guffaw that almost had Baekhyun jumping out of his skin. “Um, are you alright? Did you consume anything before coming here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m clean.” Chanyeol seemed to find the thought highly amusing, but Baekhyun wasn’t entirely convinced. Chanyeol reached out and grasped his hand, a large warm palm encasing Baekhyun’s completely. “Anyway I’m guessing you’re not the bar kind of guy, you probably see enough of those. I thought we could go for a drive.”

Instead of heading out of the lobby, Chanyeol directed Baekhyun up to the hotel’s landing pad. The lot was packed with luxury hovercrafts of all kinds, from short-distance fliers to fancy long-range multicrafts, but Baekhyun instantly knew which one Chanyeol’s was — a large, sleek silver flier. 

“I’ve never actually been in one of these,” Baekhyun admitted, climbing into the passenger seat as Chanyeol helped him up. He stared at the controls, which were minimal and abstractly labelled. “This looks tough to operate.”

Chanyeol slid into the driver’s seat. “Nah, it’s simple. You can get licensed at fifteen. Didn’t they have classes, wherever you’re from?”

“We didn’t.” Baekhyun had expected the guy to have already done a thorough background check on him. Then again, maybe he wasn’t important enough to warrant such conscientiousness. He supposed he ought to be happy about that.

“You know, I tried to find out where you were from, but your files are strangely difficult to get hold of,” Chanyeol was steering the craft towards the takeoff zone, navigating expertly through the congestion. “Why is that?”

Baekhyun chose not to answer. The craft lifted smoothly off the runway, and the next second Chanyeol was flooring the pedals. The craft lurched forwards — sending Baekhyun flying back against the seat — and suddenly the world outside was a blur. Crafts were slicing past them, invisible except for their light trails. Even the city below was beginning to grow indistinct.

“Oh my god, you fucking lunatic, SLOW DOWN!”

“I have to hurry if we’re going to get to Osaka and back by morning. Want some air?” Chanyeol wound down one of the windows, and Baekhyun was hit in the face by a blast of icy air. 

“Fuck!” Baekhyun yelled. Chanyeol only laughed, reaching over to wind down a few more of the windows. The interior of the craft felt like a hurricane was sweeping through it — Baekhyun couldn’t even tell if the craft itself was being spun off its trajectory. He tried to open his mouth, but the wind was smashing it in. His face was peeling off.

Next to him, Chanyeol wasn’t even holding onto the controls anymore — he’d extended his arms out of the window, eyes shut, looking blissed out. His feet were still slammed hard on the pedals. Baekhyun started to thoroughly regret coming on this “date”. He was probably going to die here, in the middle of the sky, and it would be because he’d stupidly decided to entrust his life to a complete madman.

“Having fun?” Chanyeol’s voice came from right next to his ear. Baekhyun ignored him, arms stretching out for the window controls. His fingers found the levers, and he managed to hold them down until the glass panels slid silently back into their original positions.

The cabin was finally quiet. Baekhyun exhaled deeply, trying to slow his heart rate. “Please drop me off at the nearest landing pad. I don’t care where we are.”

“Oh come on, we’re almost there.”

“What, almost in Osaka?”

“There it is.” Chanyeol gestured vaguely at the city below them. He’d slowed down now, and Baekhyun could see the city lights, getting more and more distinct as they descended. Japan was different from Seoul somehow. It was even denser, just as stacked, but retained characteristic features of Japanese architecture — split curtains hanging above swinging wooden doors, teahouses levitating several hundred storeys up, the traditional silhouettes of temples and arches still persisting prominently throughout the city. 

Baekhyun wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Chanyeol pulled down towards the outskirts of the city, where the stacked skyscrapers were gradually swapped out for small low-rise buildings reminiscent of the turn of the second millenium. The craft finally came to a standstill on the ground, next to a single-story teahouse.

“Bubble tea? Really?” 

An insouciant shrug. “It’s what people do on dates, isn’t it?” He unfastened his seat belt, turned off the engine and hopped out of the craft.

“We came all the way here to get tea? There are a million places we could’ve gotten tea in Busan.”

“Don’t worry, we’re only getting a takeaway. I did say we were going for a drive.” Chanyeol strode briskly towards the building. 

“Was I complaining? I meant that I love cafes, I’d love to stay here.”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, not even glancing over. “Yeah, right. Like we’re going to have a date in an isolated lot with only grass for company.”

The teahouse was a small, traditional wooden structure, slightly elevated off the ground, capped with a tiled roof. Baekhyun couldn’t quite make out the name of the establishment in the dim light. He followed Chanyeol through the doorway, stepping over the threshold. The interior was considerably more modern than the outside, and crowded with people of diverse nationalities and subcultures.

Baekhyun joined the queue behind a girl dressed as a robotic cat, but Chanyeol stepped straight up to the counter, ignoring dirty looks from the cafe’s other patrons. He waved Baekhyun over. 

“Park Chanyeol! Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again, after so long,” the girl behind the counter laughed. “What can I get for you guys?”

“Nice to see you again, Luna. I’ll have the usual.” He looked at Baekhyun expectantly. 

Baekhyun scanned the menu billboard. “Uh… I’ll have a sweet potato latte.” 

“Great choice.” Luna grinned at him and tapped their orders in. 

Baekhyun eyed Chanyeol, leaning on the counter in his black jacket and jeans. He didn’t quite fit into the quaint, whimsical setting. “You come here often?” 

“Used to. My friend Sehun, remember the other groomsman at Junmyeon’s wedding? He loves this place, flies over every other day.”

Baekhyun tried to imagine Chanyeol as a teenager, rebellious and angsty. He supposed he could see a little playfulness — or maybe it was just instability — but otherwise it was hard to pin down the human behind the layers of shields, the oscillating moods and posturing, the air of entitled dominance. 

Luna’s voice interrupted his train of thought. “One sweet potato latte, one matcha azuki latte. Enjoy your drinks!”

 

They headed back to the craft with their takeaways, somewhat reluctantly on Baekhyun’s part. “You still haven’t told me where we’re driving to,” he muttered, fastening his seatbelt with apprehension. He waited, but Chanyeol didn’t respond. They were cruising comfortably in the air, far away from the teahouse, when Chanyeol finally spoke.

“Earlier, when you were looking at me in the teahouse. What were you thinking?”

Baekhyun looked across the capsule, surprised. The truth slipped out of his mouth. “I was trying to imagine you as a teenager.”

“And? What did you come up with?”

“Not much. I’m guessing aloof, unfriendly. The brooding sort of teenager. Probably top of the year.”

“You’re pretty much completely wrong.”

“Really? What _were_ you like, then?” Baekhyun was genuinely curious.

“In my earlier teens I was overbearing and clingy. I was a typical troublemaker, far from being top of the year.”

Baekhyun looked at him in disbelief. “Never mind the overbearing part, cause I’m pretty sure that’s still you. Clingy?”

“Or so people tell me.”

“Unbelievable. Did you undergo a traumatic experience since then? Or twenty?”

Chanyeol ignored the sarcasm. “What kind of teenager were you, Baekhyun?”

“I was a good student. I didn’t attend any fancy academies, but I made the most of what I did have.”

“That was meant to be a jibe, wasn’t it.” Baekhyun could hear the smirk in Chanyeol’s voice. 

Baekhyun laughed and pushed him in the shoulder. “Keep your eyes on the road.” 

 

  
They finally landed somewhere halfway up in a mountain range — “the Hida range”, according to Chanyeol. Baekhyun borrowed a heat insulator from the backseat of Chanyeol’s flier, and they trekked several hundred metres out towards the valley, where the ruins of a giant dam sat at the water’s edge, crumbling and covered in overgrowth. Dark water lapped at its base, as though trying to tear it down completely. It was serene, yet somehow eerie.

“They say many people died constructing this dam. Sad, isn’t it? Giving their lives up for something that didn’t even last beyond a couple decades.”

“It is sad,” Baekhyun agreed. “But they probably weren’t from the elite caste, and didn’t have any choice in the matter. Unlike yourself.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I did some research on Northern exploration. And I found — nobody has ever returned?”

“People have been exploring the gates for decades, and many have made it back to further our knowledge. It’s just that no one has ventured beyond the gateway and comes back sane.”

Baekhyun took a while to process the words. “Wait — how insane?”

“Hallucinations. Most of the people who went through never came back. Those who did, weren’t in any fit state to tell us what they’ve found — they end up in hospital beds, slipping in and out of consciousness, hallucinating their entire lives ahead.” He sounded remarkably unconcerned. 

“Wow.” Baekhyun bit his lip. “And you want that same fate to befall you?”

“No, I don’t plan on coming back at all.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “Your family was okay with this? They were alright with you basically signing yourself up for a suicide mission instead of joining the ruling sect?”

“They weren’t originally, but I insisted. They didn’t have a choice in the matter. And honestly, it doesn’t make a difference to them whether I live or die, as long as it’s done in an appropriately elite capacity.”

Baekhyun didn’t know how to respond to that. He was angry, but wasn’t quite sure why. “I still don’t get it.”

“There are many things wrong with this world, don’t you think? The authority, the kingdom, the caste system.”

“Of course this world isn’t perfect. If life was fair, I wouldn’t be here.” Baekhyun laughed morosely. “I’d already be on stage. You on the other hand have everything you could ever want from this world, and you want to throw it away.”

“The only thing I’ve ever wanted is to explore.”

“There’s so much in this world to see.” 

“You aren’t listening, Baekhyun. It’s like what singing is to you. If I asked you not to pursue music, telling you there were many other accessible jobs out there, would you change your mind?”

Baekhyun paused, and sighed. It did make sense, put like that. “Alright, I guess I understand.”

They followed a trail along the side of the mountain. In the night, the mountains were silent, a long range of sheer purple slopes and misty peaks. The trail was easy to navigate, the earth grown over with low shrubs rather than trees. Eventually they arrived in front of a imposing wooden doorway, the surface carved with intricate rows of Chinese characters. Chanyeol pushed, it creaked slightly open, and they both stepped in.

Inside the garden, a stone fountain gurgled. A pond occupied the centre of the area, surrounded by arrangements of volcanic rock, grown over with moss that seemed almost fluorescent green. Small stone lanterns, benches and troughs of small rocks were scattered amongst carefully pruned shrubs that completed the miniature landscape.

It was enchanting. They sat in the pavilion, drinking in the tranquility, and they talked about childhood and adolescence, about their hopes of what was to come. It was strange — the first time he’d seen actual humanity in a person of Chanyeol’s status. They both studiously avoided discussing the present. Baekhyun tried to stay careful, but he let himself relax more than he had in months. He felt freer, somehow, speaking to a man who was effectively going to leave the world in a month’s time.

They stayed out in the park until the horizon was dangerously indigo. Chanyeol piloted the craft through the sky like he was being chased by the devil, tearing through the air at breakneck speeds. They made it back just in time as the craft landed bumpily back in the landing space on the fifty-fifth floor of Baekhyun’s hotel. 

Baekhyun was reeling from vertigo, but he managed to get the door open himself, and climbed out into the now silent lot, nearly tripping over himself in the process. He thought he might’ve heard Chanyeol, or the valet, laughing from somewhere behind. 

“Thanks for tonight.” He meant it. He felt pleasantly warm inside, and light, as though over the course of the night a massive burden had fallen off his back.

“It was my pleasure.” Chanyeol raised a hand up to wave goodbye.

“So — I’ll see you again soon?” Baekhyun asked, smiling, his nerves still buzzing with adrenaline.

When he turned to look back at Chanyeol, however, the other man’s expression was strangely detached, as though deep in thought. Quickly, Chanyeol rearranged his features into a warm smile. “You will. Stay safe, Baekhyun.” 

The doors of the craft slid closed, and then it took off, soaring into the lightening sky.

* * *

The screen lit up to reflect the arrival of new customers, and Baekhyun headed out to reception to usher them in. In the narrow hallway, a tall man stood with his back to the counter, black hair perfectly gelled up, a blood red turtleneck peeking out from under a fitted black suit. 

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun stared at the man.

Chanyeol turned around and smiled. “Baekhyun. We meet again.” Baekhyun watched as he turned to his companion — belatedly realising that he wasn’t alone — and made eye contact with a familiar face. Kim Junmyeon.

Baekhyun bowed respectfully. “Good evening, Mr Kim.”

Junmyeon levelled his intimidating gaze on Baekhyun, and inclined his head slightly. “Byun. I wasn’t aware you worked here.”

Baekhyun glanced at Chanyeol, who was still watching him with an odd gleam in his eyes, as though a play was unfolding in front of him. “Um, I started only last week, Mr Kim.”

Chanyeol interrupted. “He’s a resourceful man with many employers. I would’ve thought you’d keep a closer eye on employees you favoured.”

The tone of Chanyeol’s voice was messing with his head. _Focus._ “Party of two? Would you like an indoor seat?”

Junmyeon nodded. “Lead the way, please.” 

Baekhyun decided it was safest to put them somewhere isolated — just in case either of them did anything else that would draw attention. He escorted them to a table in the far back, and handed out menus, avoiding Chanyeol’s steady gaze.

“Would you like me to recommend anything? Something to drink, perhaps?” Baekhyun asked, as per policy. 

“Actually, I’d like to look at the menu. Please leave us for a while.” Junmyeon dismissed Baekhyun with a wave, but Chanyeol was quick to stop him.

“We could use some recommendations. This old man here needs a pick-me-up after a hard day of crunching figures. My treat, least I could do for someone who’s single-handedly keeping our economy afloat.”

Junmyeon kept his eyes on the menu. The tension between them could be cut with a knife. Baekhyun tried to ignore the sense of unease building up in his chest, and began listing the day’s specials. “Today we’ve got roasted bone marrow, served with forestiere. For main courses I recommend the carpaccio of langoustine, it’s served with Oscietra caviar and champagne vinaigrette — it’s the guest chef’s specialty. If you fancy a soup —” 

Before Baekhyun could finish his sentence, Chanyeol cut him off again, talking over him. “You did good on this hire, Junmyeon. Not very often that you get such a pretty face to bartend, is it? Where did you pick this one up from?” He raked his eyes up and down Baekhyun’s figure in a way that made him extremely uncomfortable.

“Looks aren’t part of the job description. We’ll hire anyone who works well.”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol’s voice was full of false surprise. “Well, maybe you should. It does help him get the attention he wants from customers.” He smirked. “Then again, maybe you don’t want your bartenders to get propositioned by customers on the regular, might interfere with their work.”

Junmyeon looked up at Baekhyun. “I’m sorry, Byun. Please excuse us for a moment.”

“Where do you think you’re sending him off to?” Chanyeol’s hand was suddenly on Baekhyun’s waist, preventing him from leaving. Baekhyun tensed. _Stay professional, don’t get affected. Do what any waiter of this establishment would be expected to do._ “I’d like to get to know this employee of yours.” 

“I don’t mix my personal and professional life, Chanyeol. If you’re so keen on propositioning him, approach him after our dinner,” Junmyeon stated coldly.

“Propositioning? I said I wanted to get to know him. I’ve already established that he’s a good lay.” Chanyeol’s eyes shifted from Junmyeon’s face to Baekhyun’s, daring him to speak up. “Just so you know. It’s an effective way of getting close to customers. Maybe you ought to branch out into brothels, I hear it’s good money. And you wouldn’t even have to hire — just rope all your existing staff in.”

“We’ll have two of whatever you just recommended.” Junmyeon snapped his menu closed, grabbed Chanyeol’s from the table and handed them both to Baekhyun. “Excuse us.”

Baekhyun took the menus, bowed slightly, and headed back to the kitchens. Once out of view, he keyed the order into the system and asked one of his co-workers to take over the table at the back.

He fought to keep himself calm. Chanyeol and Junmyeon were friends. Chanyeol had been best man at Junmyeon's wedding. Nothing was going to happen; this was probably just an ambiguous attempt at power play, or whatever these people did to amuse themselves.

He managed to keep out of the way for most of the evening, but after an hour his co-worker called him over, telling him that the table had demanded for Baekhyun to be the one to bring them the bill.

Apparently, he had no choice. Baekhyun braced himself and headed back out. 

Chanyeol was the only one left in the booth, idly drumming his fingers on the table.

Baekhyun strode over to the table. “Where’s Junmyeon?” he asked sharply.

“He left.” Chanyeol looked up at Baekhyun, and suddenly Baekhyun was being roughly pulled forwards, losing his balance and falling into the man’s lap. A hand shot out reflexively to balance himself, but long fingers wrapped themselves around his wrists, holding them prisoner. Chanyeol’s face was inches from his, looking down at him in amusement. “It’s just us now.”

Baekhyun’s head cleared and he roughly yanked his hands free of Chanyeol, straightening up. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself enough, humiliating me earlier?” Baekhyun demanded, face flushed.

Chanyeol leaned back against the seat. He appeared composed, but his voice was slightly hoarse. “Watch your tone.”

“I’m not speaking to you as a customer right now. I’m speaking to you as an acquaintance, a friend, or whatever we are.” Baekhyun hated the way Chanyeol smiled slightly at his words. “I don’t care if you have some kind of agenda against Junmyeon — you used me.”

“That’s a dramatic way of putting it.”

“What other words would you prefer? You suggested he use me as a prostitute, for fuck’s sake.”

Chanyeol grinned. “Take it as a compliment.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “Quit behaving like a preschooler, Chanyeol.”

“Baekhyun.” Chanyeol’s brow was knotted, as though he was concerned, but his voice was patronising. “I don’t understand. You knew what kind of person I am. You came after me only because you were lonely and you wanted a good fuck. Why do you expect me to treat you like a friend?”

Baekhyun was speechless, getting angrier with every word of crap that came out of the man’s mouth. 

At Baekhyun’s silence, Chanyeol sighed. “Just hand me the bill.”

Baekhyun placed the machine on the table, and waited for Chanyeol to scan his palm. The payment went through, and he picked it up.

“Yeah, I came to you because I was bored and lonely, and I knew you were leaving. We could’ve left it at a one-night stand. That’s all I wanted. _You_ were the one who came looking for me. You forcibly dragged me out on a “date”. You acted as though we were friends. So for fuck’s sake, drop the act. This isn’t about me — it’s all about you, as usual, you and your fragile ego and need to step on people to feel better about yourself. Fucking pathetic.” He was so angry, his words came out semi-coherent.

Baekhyun didn’t wait for Chanyeol to respond. Without a second glance, he turned and walked away, a potent mix of anger, hurt and disappointment mingling in his chest. He would _not_ let himself get upset over such a man, Baekhyun told himself repeatedly, even as he blinked back tears that were gathering in the corners of his eyes. He was lonely, that was all — and he’d wanted to trust the first person who’d offered him some companionship, no matter how poor of an excuse for companionship it was. 

He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

* * *

Baekhyun picked up the platter of caviar and cocaine and headed out from behind the bar. The lounge was only half-filled, it being a Thursday, but the air was thick with incense and smoke and the crowd was as rowdy and messy as always. He stepped neatly over a body passed out on the floor, ignored the hands groping at him as he moved, and stopped next to the fume chamber.

“Sir, your plank is ready.”

There was no response from the chamber. Baekhyun bent to set it down on a nearby table, fumbling for a tag to label the customer’s number.

“Byun Baekhyun.” The voice was low, aggressive, familiar.

Baekhyun spun around. Park Chanyeol was on the long sofa behind him, next to an elaborate water pipe that was still smoking. He stood, shoving a blonde man off his lap. Said man flailed to restore his balance and avoid falling into the platter Baekhyun had just placed.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun muttered, not bothering to conceal his displeasure.

Chanyeol grabbed hold of his shoulders. “What are you doing in a place like this?” He sounded confused, probably under the influence of something — and angry, which Baekhyun thought was pretty rich of him. 

“It’s none of your business.”

Chanyeol was pinning him to the wall, towering over him. Baekhyun tried to push him off, but the man was using his weight to hold him in place. His eyes were slightly unfocused, intoxicated, but his grip was iron. “Stay there. Don’t fucking move.” 

Hot lips, tasting of alcohol, slammed aggressively against his. Teeth dragged against his bottom lip, forced them open, pressed so hard Baekhyun’s mouth was numb and tingling. He felt the press of hips against his abdomen, and hands moving down towards his waist. Movements filled with longing and desperation.

Baekhyun kicked out with force. Chanyeol’s knees buckled, and Baekhyun grabbed the man’s forearms and shoved them, hard. “Back off, Park. I don’t want to deal with your shit right now.”

Was that pain he could see in the other man’s eyes? When he spoke, his words were slurred, and he sounded like he was half-dreaming. “Byun Baekhyun. Why won’t you leave my head alone?”

He sounded so pained, so heartbroken, Baekhyun’s heart almost weakened. 

He laughed bitterly. “You’re a coward, Park Chanyeol, I hope you know that.” He stepped away from the man as quickly as he could, avoiding the host of gyrating bodies nestled in every available corner. Baekhyun needed to get back to his task, and Chanyeol could go back to leading his meaningless life.

His turbulent thoughts must’ve been reflected on his face. “You alright, Byun?” Another waiter asked concernedly, leaning over the counter.

“Yeah, just tired.” Baekhyun turned around and smiled. “But it’s fine, my shift’s ending. I’ll be off soon.”

When he left the lounge an hour later, he could still see the outline of Chanyeol’s lone figure sprawled out on the sofa, surrounded by a thick cloud of smoke.

* * *

“How has nobody else recognised you yet? You’re constantly around.”

Baekhyun sighed, not looking away from the tea set he was laying out. He’d known that Park Chanyeol was going to be on the airship, as a member of the board that had gathered to have their conference. He’d just hoped he’d be able to board the ship, accomplish his task, and disembark without having to encounter the man.

“Nobody notices a waiter.” What was the man doing in this lounge anyway?

“I didn’t know people from our sect were involved in political scandals.”

Baekhyun picked up the tray and turned to face Chanyeol. It struck him again, how handsome the other man was, pulling off the long coat and suit like he was born to model it on a runway. He was so handsome it hurt to look at him — a physical reminder of how far removed he was from Baekhyun’s world. 

He took a deep breath. “Can I help you? Would you like some more tea?”

“No. I would like a word with you.”

“I’m afraid I’m still on duty. I have to attend to the meeting upstairs.” Baekhyun moved to exit, but Chanyeol blocked him.

“Nobody in that meeting could be of interest to you. They’re all decent people. The ones you’re after are in their rooms, they won’t be getting out till we convene tomorrow. And I’m sure you have them both bugged anyway.”

Baekhyun set the tray down, and looked up resignedly. Chanyeol strode over to the door and bolted it. 

“Nobody’s going to come in here,” Baekhyun said dully. “Please make this quick.”

“Fine.” Chanyeol’s tone shifted abruptly in that unnerving way of his — the same way his expressions seemed to flick from good to bad in a millisecond. “Are you here to compromise our expedition?”

Baekhyun regarded the man standing before him. “Classified,” he said finally.

“Work with me, Baekhyun. We both know that I have every means to give your game away.”

His condescending tone grated on Baekhyun’s nerves. 

“Who would you give me away to, though, Mr Park?” he challenged. He took a step forward, till he was face-to-face with Chanyeol, not caring that he had to tilt his head at a ridiculous angle to keep glaring at him. “The division? The people I’m monitoring? You’d do that, at the expense of your country’s stability?”

A beat of silence. When Chanyeol spoke again, his tone was icy.

“Both. I’d first inform the people you were monitoring, and then I would file a report to the division that you’d failed in your tasks and alerted the people you set out to thwart. As for my country, I honestly wouldn’t give a fuck if it burned to the ground.”

Baekhyun wanted to stare the man down, but he couldn’t do it. Hot tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He wouldn’t let this asshole, wouldn’t let his one moment of weakness ruin everything for him. He’d done an excellent job of remaining low-profile with everyone else he’d met. He was close — so painfully close — to wrapping this up for good.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Baekhyun said calmly. “I’ll take you to the headquarters myself if I have to.” The worst they could do would be to cut his pay. Right?

“You actually think they’d wipe me? They’d sooner fire you and lock you up.”

“Names mean nothing where national security is concerned. I’m willing to take the risk.” 

The other man abruptly grabbed hold of his shoulders, his grip tight as though he was trying to squeeze the life force out of him. “Byun Baekhyun. Do _not_ do anything to sabotage this expedition. This is my whole life. My whole life — god, do you understand?”

“It’s my whole life too.” Baekhyun was aware that a tear was making its way down his face, but he kept composure.

“Shit, are you crying?” Chanyeol sounded genuinely shocked as he stared at Baekhyun’s face. 

“Let go.” Baekhyun forcefully shoved Chanyeol’s arms back and turned away. The next moment, he was grabbed and enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol said quietly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Baekhyun knew he should’ve pushed the man away immediately, knocked him out and dragged his sorry ass straight to headquarters the moment the zeppelin landed. But all he could do was stand there, leaning on the man’s shoulder, letting his long held-in tears fall. 

This was supposed to have been a simple job. Baekhyun had thought he could do it. Just one year living in the shadows, sneaking around and spying on people, and then he’d have money to do what he really wanted. Easy. But it was an incredibly lonely life — he had no one at all. And then this guy had come in and complicated things further, messing with his emotions and then running off to hide behind problems of his own.

“I’m not good at expressing myself,” Chanyeol said finally. “So I generally try not to. And I know I’m a mess. I can’t control my behaviour — especially around you. But I mean it when I say that I don’t want any harm to come to you. Ever. As much as I need to go on this expedition.”

Baekhyun understood what he was saying, could feel his desperation. “You … you can do something about it. The team leader — Sooyoung — she’s clear. The planners — the ones who proposed this — aren’t having their motives investigated either. You can find people to replace the ones who will be lost.”

Chanyeol exhaled sharply. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He pulled away. “Please come with me for a bit, I need to talk to you.”

***

They were seated in Chanyeol’s cabin, at the bow of the ship. 

“I owe you an explanation for my behaviour,” Chanyeol began. “People call me an asshole. I guess they’re right, I’m not nice, because I never had anything to live for — kind of like yourself, except that instead of singing I had only my dreams of exploration. I was reckless in all my personal relationships because none of them really mattered to me, none of them would last once I left. I did to you exactly what I’d always done. I called you up, asked you out, with no plans of commitment. But when I realised that I was actually feeling something real, I became more antagonistic than usual. You probably could tell. Of course I wanted to show Junmyeon up, I can’t help that, but I’m really sorry that I treated you how I did. I caused you pain, and I feel incredibly guilty about it. You never deserve to be treated badly.”

“Neither do any of the others you’ve hurt,” Baekhyun remarked drily. Chanyeol rolled his eyes, and Baekhyun softened his tone. “But I accept your apology. I know you reacted like that because you’re hurting too.”

“I owe you a clarification as well. You probably think I lied whenever I talked about myself. What I told you, about wanting to be a singer, it was the truth. They — the covert division — picked me up because I was an orphan, alone in the world. Nobody knew me, nobody would miss me if anything happened to me during the mission. I signed a contract with them, and they promised me the money and connections I’d need.”

“And you believed them?”

“Not like I had a choice.” Baekhyun shrugged. “But yeah, I believe them. It might sound ridiculous, but I like to believe the best in people. In spite of everything.”

“I wasn’t sure about you when you showed up at the wedding,” Chanyeol admitted. “Something about you was so transient, like you knew you were leaving for somewhere. But I honestly hadn’t a clue about Junmyeon. Your cover story about being his bartender was actually quite believable, I wouldn’t have expected a spy to be walking around in plain sight at a social event.”

Baekhyun laughed. “I’ve infiltrated quite a few events. The upper castes just don’t take notice of me. Little to no real disguise is needed there. It’s tougher when I deal at casinos, where I have to worry about people picking a fight.”

“I took notice of you. Even if you hadn’t come looking for me at the pool, I’d have found a way to approach you sooner or later.”

Baekhyun smiled softly. “You did, anyway.”

“And what you said the other time, when you called me a coward … you were right.” He stopped, clearly struggling to let his guard down. “You made me realise that boldness and bravery are very different things. I wasn’t always this way — I could be generous and giving, but I was always timid at heart, scared of rejection and failure. I was never courageous.”

“It’s alright. You’re making progress.”

“Yeah. I can finally admit to myself that I care for you — deeply. And I want to be by your side, as much as I can.”

“The short time we have might not count for much, but while we’re both here, I’ll stay.”

 

They spent the night together, in the confines of the small cabin. Baekhyun gave himself up to his senses, stopped resisting, allowed himself to feel each emotion as keenly as it hit him.

“Where are you going after this? Once the ship lands?” Chanyeol breathed out as they lay side by side, slipping in and out of consciousness. The ship was rocking gently, lulling them into slumber.

Baekhyun thought of what he could tell. “I’m going to perform at the state ceremony in a few days, I’m being summoned to make a report there, right after I perform.”

“I’ll be there.” 

And so Baekhyun lay next to Chanyeol, for the second time. Chanyeol fell asleep quickly, his chest rising and falling as he breathed quietly. The man’s brow was furrowed, betraying deeply-buried pain and stress that he usually kept his countenance well clear of.

_I will love you tonight  
and I will stay by your side_

Baekhyun tried to focus on every moment of this — every moment of Chanyeol’s warmth pressing comfortingly into his side, breathing in his fresh, cool scent, the warmth deep in his heart — and did his best to forget about the coming morning, when he would inevitably have to slip out of the room and out of Chanyeol’s life.

_I want to touch you but the night becomes the day_  
_I count the words that I am never going to say,_  
_and I see you_  
_In midnight blue._

* * *

The arena was full, tens of thousands of people gathered for a celebration of art and the power of the state. 

A man was standing on a raised cylindrical platform, high above the massive stadium, enveloped by a gentle halo of light. Behind him, a giant screen, a cluster of a billion organic light-emitting diodes, played a flickering sepia montage. 

Chanyeol sat facing the stage head-on, though a mile away from its platform. The opening act was about to begin, and the performer was Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun — his small figure clothed simply in a loose white shirt and black pants, a sweep of black hair framing his delicate pale face. As the music started up, a sombre piano and rousing orchestra, his eyelids fluttered shut. 

His voice spilled out, starting out quiet yet filling the entire stadium. The sky was clear that night, yet in Chanyeol’s mind he could see the rain falling over his shoulders, drenching the man. He didn’t know how long Baekhyun sang for. It could’ve been a few minutes, it could’ve been half an hour. His concept of time was no longer solid.

His voice, that beautiful husky tenor, surged as the music roused to its climax. Chanyeol watched, feeling an acute ache deep inside that he couldn’t explain. He had never seen anything like it. And as he stared up the man standing up on the platform, every part the heartbroken angel, he knew. The mission was complete. This stage was the cover-up for his approaching wipe and the career that would follow. Baekhyun was leaving.

Yet he’d been captivated, heart, mind and soul.

The state of complete entrancement lasted right until the lights dimmed and Baekhyun’s circular platform sank below the stage and disappeared from vision.

Before the next act could be announced, Chanyeol was already striding out of the arena and towards the stage door. He shoved his namecard at a startled security guard, pushing his way through several choirs and and orchestra before he found it. A frosted glass door labelled with the name “Byun Baekhyun”. Chanyeol pushed down the handle and walked right in, searching. Baekhyun was nowhere to be found. The room was functional, sparse. A camera on the far wall and another above the door.

Someone stepped into the room, and Chanyeol spun around. Baekhyun stood there alone, still attired in his loose white shirt, his face still painted with foundation. He didn’t look at all surprised to see Chanyeol. He opened his mouth to speak, but Chanyeol was already striding across the room to cup his face in his hands and seal their lips together. He raked his hands through Baekhyun’s soft black hair, letting the waves tumble between his fingers, caressing the soft skin of his neck as his lips moved desperately over Baekhyun’s. He couldn’t believe that Baekhyun was right here, in his arms. He didn’t have words to articulate the pain he was feeling, the pain that was stabbing right through his heart.

When they pulled apart, Baekhyun’s stance was resigned. “You said your time here was dwindling, but I guess mine ran out first.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “No. We’ll meet again. You can’t just leave like that.”

“You know I can’t meet people in public.”

Chanyeol’s mind raced. Missions, reports, grace periods, wipes. “The _Zygomas_ will be open in three days. Meet me there. You can do that, can’t you?” Aborted reports. Task extensions. “No. You can postpone the report. Please. I’m leaving in two weeks. Give us just a bit more time.”

The glass door slid open and a thin, bespectacled man entered. “Mr Park Chanyeol.” He inclined his head politely in Chanyeol’s direction.

“Leave us alone for a moment,” Chanyeol ordered. “I need to speak to Mr Byun in private.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Park. I’m under orders to retrieve Byun Baekhyun. He’s being brought in to the local division.”

“What has he done to deserve that? Do you think he’s a criminal?” Chanyeol’s voice was rising in pitch and volume, getting more and more agitated. He didn’t know what he was hoping to accomplish, but Baekhyun ignored him and walked towards the escort.

“I’m sorry I can’t disclose the details to you, Mr Park, but I cannot leave you alone with him. We’re taking him in for questioning now.” 

“It’s alright.” Baekhyun spoke, looking at the man, and Chanyeol wanted to scream. “Let’s go.”

“Stay,” Chanyeol pleaded. “Don’t go yet.”

But Baekhyun left without so much as a backward glance.

* * *

The met for the last time in the middle of the Atlantic. The famed _Zygomas_ was open, for the last of three nights each year. One of three nights a year that its ivory platform — of a skull emerging from a lotus — was raised above the sea on a column of water, supported by a geyser of white sea foam. 

Slippery electronic beats pulsing in his ears, Chanyeol stood alone on the balcony, watching the mass of glittering, writhing bodies on the platform below. The waves were surging and receding along with the music, causing the floating platform to rise and tilt — not that it bothered any of the ravers, who just slid along. From his vantage point in one of the (thankfully unmoving) ocular lounges, Chanyeol could clearly see the cloud of icy sea mist hanging around the mandible, separating the club’s airspace from the exterior.

“He’s arrived, sir.” 

Chanyeol spun around. The lounge attendant stood unaccompanied in the narrow doorway.

“Where?” His eyes scanned the moving platform.

“He’s outside the cranium.”

“Why didn’t you bring him here?” He couldn’t contain the exasperation in his voice.

“He won’t come, sir. He’s quite adept at avoiding me.”

Chanyeol sighed. “Very well.” He grabbed his jacket. “Lead the way.”

***

Baekhyun was facing the ocean, just another silver-painted face and jumble of reflective gunmetal fabric, blending in seamlessly with the ravers. If Chanyeol hadn’t known his silhouette so well, he’d have found it almost impossible to locate him in the sea of people. As he approached, Baekhyun spoke. “I’ve told you before, I can’t go around just meeting people in public.”

“Nobody would’ve known. You really are uncannily good at social camouflage.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “It _is_ my job to inconspicuous.”

“It’s hard to believe someone with as much charisma and presence as the man I saw onstage a few days ago, can be this good at passing by unnoticed.”

“A lot of exceptional people go unnoticed in this world,” was Baekhyun’s reply. Chanyeol just stood there, drinking in the sight of him, trying to commit it all to memory. Baekhyun took hold of Chanyeol’s hand and pulled him towards the entrance to the dance hall. “I’ve always heard of this place, but never got the chance to come until today. Ready to rave?”

 

Chanyeol gave himself up to the music — hard, rubbery beats overlaid with surging ambient Glossolalia and Celtic violins. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but deep in the crowd, holding onto Baekhyun’s waist, rhythm pulsing in his ears, the cold Atlantic wind rushing around him, it was only too easy to lose himself in a trance. Baekhyun was dancing, holding onto his shoulders, smiling, maybe even singing. It was hard to tell, his senses overloaded as they were. The firm grip of Baekhyun’s hands was anchoring his soul to his body, as the platform rose and spun and the people around them exulted and walked on air.

 

The night was reaching its deepest, and Northern lights would be moving overhead soon. Chanyeol and Baekhyun left the floor and headed back out onto the balcony, heading out to the far end of a lotus petal. More of the clubbers had stepped out by then, and most of them were zoned out, lost in a world of hallucinogens, seeing things that weren’t there. Still, Chanyeol wanted to make sure they were in a position where they wouldn’t be eavesdropped upon. Far out, the roar of the waves was loud enough that it masked their voices.

“That was every bit as magical as it’s made out to be,” Baekhyun said, in wonderment. The remnants of ecstasy hadn’t quite faded from his features. “People weren’t lying when they said partying here was a spiritual experience.”

“I’ve been here many times, but never actually danced,” Chanyeol admitted. “I usually stayed in one of the lounges.”

“With company.”

“Yeah. Lots of company. But this time was by the far the best I’ve ever had here — and the best company, too.”

Heavy emotion must’ve been audible in his voice. The smile slid off Baekhyun’s face, and he turned to face the horizon. “I’m only going to be here till dawn. I’m taking a train from the nearest land port.”

“Babylon?”

Baekhyun nodded, but did not speak. They knew what the destination implied. 

Chanyeol had known this was coming, but his mind still struggled to wrap itself around the concept. “You’ll be happy to go, at least.” He glanced at Baekhyun, who was brooding, seemingly deep in thought. 

When he spoke again his tone was serious. “I suppose so. That night, in the mountains, you told me this world held nothing for you, that you had everything but nothing that mattered. It was similar for me; before you I had nothing in this world. Singing was the only thing that ever made me feel alive. So taking up this assignment, I really had nothing to lose. But now … I’m afraid to lose you. Although you were never mine to keep, and I would never have met you if I hadn’t made that decision.”

“What I said back then no longer stands. You’ve given me something to miss. You make me want to come back.” How ironic those words seemed now — he’d tried to prevent Baekhyun from forming any lasting attachment to him, only to be the one to fall hardest in the end. The other man seemed so incredibly composed — so calm and at peace, accepting of his fate, nothing like the state of inner turmoil that Chanyeol was positive reflected clearly on his own face, and in his voice — weakened, about to break, lacking its usual decisiveness.

“Maybe we’ll have another chance. If we ever meet again, I promise not to let you get away.”

Chanyeol nodded. Though that would never happen. “I believe we will. Somehow.” He was only half lying. He’d learned enough about the hallucinations to know that Baekhyun would be one of his.

Baekhyun smiled sadly. Their hands were clasped as the sky came alive.

“No regrets, though?”

“None at all.”

By the time the sun rose, Baekhyun was gone. Chanyeol stood on the platform, drenched in the downpour, and watched as Baekhyun gave him a last wave, then turned and boarded the waiting train. Five minutes later, the train disappeared into the fog, a trail of steam rising from the exhaust pipes, and then all that was left was the misty rocks, and the torrential rain.

* * *

“Sir, please proceed this way.” A lady guided Baekhyun into the lobby of the hundredth floor. The unassuming appearance of the place threw him off. It was too comfortable, too simply furnished for a place of its status and purpose. His feet moved forward reflexively, placing themselves in front of one another. The corridor ahead was long and carpeted, its sandy walls hung with abstract paintings. He walked for minutes in silence.

Finally the corridor drew to a close. Doors slid open ahead, and Baekhyun stepped into the circular room. They were high up somewhere in the capital plaza, and through the glass walls Baekhyun could see the massive sandstone complex of the Ministry’s headquarters — blocks of beige extending as far as the eye could see. It truly was a fort, a kingdom, and he was admiring it from the highest of ivory towers.

The centre of the room was occupied by a large machine, and a lady — its operator — was standing next to the screen, flipping through several settings. “The machine is primed, sir.”

A man was standing at the far end of the room, facing the city. “Please leave us.”

“Yes, sir.” She bowed and took her leave, the doors sliding shut behind her. Baekhyun stood alone in the centre of the room.

Junmyeon turned around. “You’ve completed your mission admirably, Mr Byun. You’re going to be wiped now.”

Baekhyun nodded. 

“The agreement we made will be honoured. You’ll receive your compensation, and you’ll wake up after this having no recollection of the last year.”

Baekhyun nodded again. He’d prepared himself for this moment, but his throat was tight.

“Any last questions?” Baekhyun shook his head, still staring out of the window. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the other man — couldn’t bear to look at his pressed, perfectly-groomed visage, his air of entitlement and utter composure.

“Very well then. Please lie down on the seat.”

Baekhyun lay down. The seat began to slide into the metallic tube, and Baekhyun was greeted by pitch black and cold air. Every hair on his body stood on end. Finally the end of the tube snapped shut, and he was completely enveloped in darkness. The cold darkness was the most horrible thing he’d ever experienced, and Baekhyun struggled not to panic.

Junmyeon’s voice echoed in the chamber. “Try to clear your mind. Think of nothing. It will make the process cleaner and reduce the chances of over-deletion.”

That was easy. Baekhyun’s mind was so overloaded, it was numb — a blank sheet. 

“Good, very good. I’m going to begin the countdown.”

 _No — not so fast._ Baekhyun’s mind began to scream again, and he fought against it. _Almost there. Almost home._

“Five… four…”

Don’t think of him. Be calm. There was nothing to fear.

“Two…”

What happened to three?

“One…”

Baekhyun’s mind was blank.

“Zero.”

 

***

 

Baekhyun’s eyes snapped open. He was lying in his bed back at home, warm sheets covering his body, sinking into the soft spring of his old mattress. The familiarity sent a pang of warmth through him, but didn’t quite override a general sense of unease. Something didn’t feel right. What had happened yesterday? Why hadn’t his alarm gone off? Was he late for work?

His head spun as he sat up. An envelope was sitting on his nightstand, and he picked it up in confusion. Physical documents weren’t often used, except for extremely confidential purposes. 

The envelope was addressed to him. He ripped it open, and slid out a set of documents. The first stack, an extensive and slightly threatening list of terms, was labelled “Contract”. The last page was embellished with his own signature. Behind that, a sheet of headshots — the faces of all kinds of people, young and old, with their names and brief descriptions labelled underneath. Faces of the people he’d dealt with on his journey, whom he’d be expected to recognise if he ever encountered them again. It was a pitifully short list for a year of life. Baekhyun examined every face — none jolted even the slightest of memories.

The last page was a brief letter of explanation.

_You have recently undergone a memory wipe. The events of the last year have been deleted from your memory and you have been compensated as agreed upon in your contract. You can contact the profile stated below to seek verification or clarification of any doubts._

_You have quit your part-time jobs as a bartender, waiter, club-handler to pursue other interests. You made one public appearance at the 520th State Ceremony in New Seoul (details in contract). An information sheet of the people you met during the past year is enclosed. Remain alert and keep the events of your memory wipe private._

On the far wall, his window abruptly slammed shut, blown by a sudden gust of wind. Baekhyun stood to latch it, and as he watched, rain began to fall — lightly at first, working up to a downpour in a matter of seconds.

The rain beat down, blurring out the surroundings. It filled his apartment with a steady, calm drumming, and filled his heart with a fleeting wistfulness, chased by inexplicable melancholy.

* * *

_five years later_

Chanyeol was almost late. His ride came to a stop just a few metres shy of the beach house, landing softly so as to not disturb the sand. Chanyeol alighted and hurried up a side staircase to the balcony, coming face-to-face with two men — one of whom looked extremely annoyed.

“Where the fuck have you been?” The man was clearly agitated, working up a sweat in his beige tuxedo.

“Hello to you too, Jongin, Sehun. Long time no see.”

Jongin sighed in annoyance, then took a deep breath. “Alright guys. We start in one minute. You know what to do. Please don’t ruin this for us.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve had practice.” Sehun grinned, not very reassuringly, and gave Jongin a pat on the back.

From inside the room came the sound of a thousand chairs being scraped back, and then the doors were pulled open from the inside. Jongin straightened up, checked that his friends were ready, and Chanyeol followed him into the hall.

Chanyeol’s first reaction was awe. The hall was beautiful — pale wood, onyx, tasteful arrangements of tropical plants with large exotic flowers, and the ceiling — it had carvings bursting forth in shades of blush purple and watercolour blue, as though colonies of corals were growing on the surface. Pale golden light filtered in through tinted windows all around the perimeter of the room.

No matter how much of the world he’d seen, beauty never failed to impress him. He mentally noted that the decor choices were definitely the bride’s — Jongin didn’t have the taste to pull together something like this. 

A thousand eyes flickered towards them as they entered and came to a halt behind the altar — it evoked a strong sense of déjà vu. Then the main doors burst open, and in came the procession of bridesmaids and the bride, escorted by her father. Jongin’s face lit up when he saw her, as did hers as she came to a halt opposite him, under the star of the empire.

Vows were exchanged, and they were wed. Applause erupted from the guests, the couple were seated, and the reception began. Jongin and Krystal were seated with their families, and Chanyeol and Sehun were guided to the next table — occupied by Junmyeon, Eunji and several of their other friends. His brothers from the academy, getting married and settling down one by one. Settling down — a concept that hadn’t even crossed his mind until a few days ago, as he’d set up his apartment in Seoul. He’d been away too long, and so much had changed — himself perhaps the most of all. Words had always come easy to him, but now he found that he didn’t have any to say. So he listened — listened to familiar voices from his past telling him about all that had happened and all that had changed, and their words gave him hope that he, too, would be able to lead a life content and at peace.

***

The reception was almost at its end. Chanyeol’s eyes began to wander, and as they did they came to rest on a man sitting way back at the rear of the hall. They made eye contact. His heart stopped.

The man’s face was achingly familiar. He was talking to some of the people seated at his table, making them laugh, but his eyes were still fixed on Chanyeol. Chanyeol almost shot out of his seat, but realised that Sehun was speaking to him.

“Chanyeol. Are you even listening?”

Chanyeol glanced at Sehun, who was looking at him weirdly. “Sorry,” he said curtly, and stood up. He looked over to the table at the back, but the man’s seat was empty.

Had he hallucinated? It might have been the effects he’d been warned about — phenomena of the Northern gateways that nobody understood. Insanity and worse had fallen on so many before him, but Chanyeol had never cared. They’d always said he would pay for his rashness.

But it couldn’t be. His mind was too alert for this to be a hallucination — those were sluggish, fluid and confusing. He’d experienced them enough to be able to tell. Chanyeol struggled to calm himself down, and scanned the area again. The man was walking, alone, out the back doors of the hall. There was no mistaking that figure. 

_Baekhyun._ He’d seen the image of him a million times over, dredged up from the depths of his subconscious. But this was him, in the flesh.

Chanyeol’s first instinct was to run over, to grab him and tell him that he was here, he’d come back. But Baekhyun wasn’t the same man he’d loved five years ago. He’d been wiped. The Baekhyun of five years ago had come to him only because he’d wanted a one-night stand with someone who’d be leaving for so far away that there was no chance of blowing his cover.

Baekhyun certainly wouldn’t recognise him, and most probably wouldn’t even like him. Could he deal with that? Could he look into Baekhyun’s eyes, could he face the other man, knowing that although he loved him beyond all reason, the other man didn’t care for him at all?

Baekhyun was already out of sight. Chanyeol turned around and headed in the opposite direction, to the bathroom, and splashed his heated face with water. His face in the mirror was flushed, sweaty, foreign to him. He’d spent most of his life establishing control — over his friends, society, his family, his own destiny — and he was good at it. He could command many things: respect, fear, subordination, compliance. Now he was faced with the one thing that mattered most, and it was completely out of his hands. 

Caught up in his internal struggle, he failed to notice that someone else had entered the bathroom.

“Why didn’t you go after him?” 

Chanyeol looked up. Junmyeon was standing next to him in front of the sinks.

“I had him invited here, you know,” Junmyeon continued when Chanyeol didn’t respond. “I recommended him to Jongin, telling him to hire this singer for the pre-reception. I thought you’d be happy to see him.”

Chanyeol was quiet. Junmyeon waited a while, before sighing. “Why are you here, Chanyeol?”

“I can’t,” Chanyeol finally said. He refused to meet Junmyeon’s eyes. “He doesn’t know me, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon listened, then considered his words for a moment. “Do you remember when you came running into my office and threatened me with my life?”

Chanyeol remembered. It had been just after Baekhyun’s performance at the state ceremony. He’d barged into Junmyeon’s office completely unannounced, demanding to know whether the division planned on honouring its agreement with Baekhyun. He’d even threatened to have Junmyeon personally exiled if the terms weren’t met.

“What happened to that man? The man who always got what he wanted, no matter the means.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “This is different. There’s no way to force him to care for me.”

“This isn’t about force, Chanyeol. It’s about being brave and chasing what you want. I know you’re afraid, but you’re armed with sincerity. This is a man who was deeply in love with you at one point in time. It’s more than likely to happen again.” 

“But what if it doesn’t?” He felt pathetic, even as the words were coming out of his mouth. 

Junmyeon gave him a hard stare. “Listen to the advice you used to give, and don’t let the thought of failure cross your mind. You won’t get many more chances like this, Chanyeol. Go after him.”

Junmyeon straightened up, clapped him on the back, and headed out. Once more, Chanyeol was alone.

 _It’s about being brave and chasing what you want._ Chanyeol thought back to another time, what felt like worlds away, breaking down in a speakeasy in the early hours of the morning. He’d been unable to reach out to the man that occupied most of his waking thought. He’d been accused of being a coward. He thought of a bright, rectangular smile that was all teeth and bold laughter. He thought of the man who had inspired him to throw aside his reservations, to let his guard down and pursue real happiness, no matter how fleeting.

Chanyeol ran out of the bathroom and straight back to the wedding hall. The reception was over and it was almost empty, with only a few of the couple’s family members still lingering behind. He turned and headed down the stairs into the main lobby of the hotel, towards the reception.

“I need to know which room Mr Byun Baekhyun is occupying,” Chanyeol panted.

“I’m sorry sir, we can’t disclose those details.”

Chanyeol groaned, running a hand through his hair. He mentally ran through his options. “I’m with Kim Jongin, alright? He’s the one that booked us all into the hotel.”

The receptionist looked skeptical. “Do you have any identification?”

Chanyeol pulled out his cardholder, rifling through it. “Need me to take a handprint? What form of ID do you need?”

The receptionist clicked through several files on his screen, and then looked back at Chanyeol. “I’m sorry, sir. Kim Jongin didn’t list anyone as his co-host. I can’t authorise you.”

Fuck this shit. “Look, I’m wearing a fucking tuxedo. Not because I wanted to, but because I was the best man at my friend’s wedding today.” Chanyeol bit out his words through gritted teeth. “I came back, quite literally, from the gates of hell to look for this man — whom I’ve been waiting to meet for five fucking years. So give me his room number _right now_ or you can kiss this job goodbye.”

“Yes, sir.” The receptionist looked down at his records, and scrolled. Chanyeol tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently. “He’s in room 4.”

Chanyeol took off without bothering to thank the guy. It was five in the afternoon and most people would be back in their rooms. He raced down the stairs to the first floor and found the door right next to the pool. Chanyeol took a deep breath and knocked.

Nobody answered.

He knocked again, with more force, then tried the handle. Locked. No response. 

Chanyeol waited outside the door for someone to answer it. He waited for ten minutes, fifteen, thirty. 

An hour passed. The sun went down. And finally, after close to ninety minutes, Chanyeol gave up and headed back to his room. 

 

***

 

As usual, he made his appearance at night.

Chanyeol was dragged, almost forcibly, to the luau. Jongin came barging into his suite with a lei and straw hat. “I don’t care if you don’t feel like dancing. It’s my party and you’re going to be there. You owe me this much.” 

But when Chanyeol finally arrived (hatless and lei-less), there, sitting at the bar with a tropical cocktail, was Baekhyun. He was alone, seemingly content with watching the dancers, but Chanyeol knew that he would much prefer to be out on the floor partying with the rest.

As he approached, Baekhyun regarded him with clear brown eyes. Chanyeol extended a hand. “Park Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun smiled amicably and shook it. There wasn’t a trace of recognition in his face. “Byun Baekhyun.” The familiarity of his voice, his manner, tugged at Chanyeol’s heartstrings.

“Bride or groom?” Chanyeol asked as casually as he could, sitting down next to him.

“Neither,” Baekhyun said. “I sang at the pre-reception, and they invited me out of courtesy. I don't actually know a single person here, but I’m stuck on this island till tomorrow anyway.”

“They didn’t invite you to bring a plus one? Not very courteous of them.”

“I wanted to bring my boyfriend, but he’s busy and didn’t have time to come.” Chanyeol was still processing the words when Baekhyun laughed. “I don’t have a plus one, if that’s what you’re asking.” The man was as annoyingly perceptive as ever. “I’ve heard about you, you know,” Baekhyun continued nonchalantly, and Chanyeol threw him a sidelong glance. “Don’t act like you're shocked, you were part of the first team to ever return from the North. I thought getting assigned there was considered nothing short of a death sentence. It was amazing, what you guys did.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “I’m an exceptional individual.” And he’d had nothing to lose. He helped himself to one of the complimentary cocktails on the bar counter.

“You seem like one.” Chanyeol turned to look at Baekhyun, surprised. The intensity of Baekhyun’s gaze sent a jolt through Chanyeol’s entire being. It was as though he was pinning Chanyeol to the spot, rendering him unable to move or even look away. “I’ll bet you have many stories to tell.”

His words were spoken lightly, but they carried gravity.

He could tell Baekhyun about their journey to the gateways of Svalbard, and what they’d overcome to reach their opening. What lay beyond was still a secret, but maybe someday he’d be able to tell all that he’d seen.

And if possible, he could tell Baekhyun that he knew what the man had been through. He could tell Baekhyun about the first time they’d watched the sunrise together, out at the defunct lighthouse, and all the other sunrises they’d shared after that. He’d tell about the time they went driving into the night sky, when they’d spent a night together aboard an airship, when they’d met under the aurora in the middle of the ocean. He wouldn’t be able to explain everything, but if Baekhyun had trusted enough to tell him then, he could trust Baekhyun enough to tell him now.

One step at a time. They were no longer unhappy. No longer in transit, no longer looking for something the world could not offer, no longer torn between chasing impossible dreams and giving themselves a shot at happiness. The lost soul and the long-suffering one were gone. Still damaged, perhaps — but healing. 

They couldn’t change the world, but they could live one day at a time. There could be a future in each other’s eyes.

“It could take a while,” Chanyeol said finally. There was so much to say, and so much he couldn’t. 

Baekhyun’s answering smile was radiant. “Good thing I’ve got all night.”

Chanyeol took his hand. The sun would be up in a few hours, but this time he wasn’t letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> Mods' Notes: During the duration of BAE2016, we're kindly asking you to leave your reviews on [Livejournal](http://baeconandeggs.livejournal.com/42686.html). Thank you for reading!♥


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